


Secondhand Heart

by Ramadiii



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, M/M, Support, Triple Agent!Rumlow, triple agent!Rollins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25446307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramadiii/pseuds/Ramadiii
Summary: Request from TumblrHH hurt/comfort fic: Brock saves Jack from an abusive relationship and supports him through the physical and psychological recovering.
Relationships: Hydra Husbands - Relationship, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/OMC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Secondhand Heart

Jack likes Andreas.  
He really does.  
He likes his laugh and how he smells after sex. He likes his lips, his Scandinavian mother, and the way his accent comes out stronger when he gets excited about something.  
But Jack has always believed in balance, be it in his diet, his work to leisure-ratio or his workout routine.  
So it's not a bad thing to him that the things he likes about his boyfriend balances out the things he doesn't like.   
The way Andreas sometimes slaps his hand away in public when he reaches for him.   
How the man rarely reciprocates his efforts in the bedroom.    
That disapproving look he gives when Jack tells him he has to leave the country for work, and the way he gives Jack the cold shoulder for a couple of days when he comes back.   
That he doesn't approve of Jack having a couple of drinks on the weekends.    
How Andreas doesn't reply to his texts when they've fought even though Jack has asked him not to several times because it gives him anxiety.    
Come to think of it there are many things he dislikes about his boyfriend but balance is key and the way Jack's heart rejoices whenever Andreas kissed him tells him that balance is necessary.

Because of this Jack doesn't think much of it when Andreas starts teasing him when they're around other people. He's been a part of STRIKE for four years now, he's used to good-natured teasing.    
That's why he doesn't mind the slight jabs, he knows Andreas loves him and doesn't mean anything by it.   
That's why he doesn't notice when the jokes turn a little sharper, or the details shared with other people becomes slightly more personal.   
That's why he doesn't notice the way Andreas' voice takes on a harsher tone, or the way it knicks his own confidence.   
He doesn't notice the way his own eyes seek him out more often when they're with other people, trying to gage from his demeanor if Andreas is pleased with him or not.   
He doesn't notice that he rarely moves from his boyfriend's side in public anymore.   
Doesn't notice he spends most of his time longing to touch him but not daring to reach out for fear of rejection.    
But that doesn't mean others don't.   
Jack doesn't have that many friends of his own to begin with and the ones he does have are trained assassins and spies. He knows they see more than other people and he knows they'd read too much into the balance between then so he begins to go out of his way to show only the good sides of his boyfriend.   
When Sharon asks him what he did this weekend he'll tell her about the amazing dinner Andreas cooked on Friday and the run they went on Sunday morning, but leave out the part where Andreas called him a faggot during sex on Saturday.   
It was just dirty talk anyway, never mind that Jack still feels a bit weird about it. He knew he was just being oversensitive.   
When Darcy asks why he keeps checking his phone when Andreas is away on a business trip he tells her it's because he sends him cute texts sometimes and he doesn't want to miss a single one of them. He doesn't tell her it's because the man refuses to check in when he's away and won't let him know he's made it okay and it makes Jack anxious.    
It's just another one of those things where they differ. Jack makes it a point to keep in touch because he knows every mission could be his last, Andreas refuses out of spite.   
He doesn't lie to his friends.   
Not really.   
He just doesn't tell them everything that goes on in his relationship, and besides, who does?   
Jack doesn't have an Instagram account, he's not even on Facebook, but he somehow manages to show an Instagram-worthy filtered version of his homelife.   
And he gets away with it too.   
He was a triple agent with Brock inside HYDRA for years, he knows how to avoid suspicion.    
He gets away with it for long enough that it becomes second nature to him.   
He becomes an undercover agent in his own life, in the life outside of Andreas' condo.   
He keeps his story straight when he's away from him, never gives too many details on anything that can be easily checked, always has an excuse ready for why the man doesn't spend any time with them anymore. It's mostly he's busy with work, or he needs time to recuperate after a business trip.   
He doesn't tell them that it's because he can't stand the way Jack looks at his male friends, or how he always laughs louder with them than with him, and no matter how many times Jack denies it Andreas never believes him.

The balance shifts on Jack's birthday.   
STRIKE-alpha has gone rogue, kidnapping the unsuspecting birthday boy at work, putting a necklace of tied-together miniature Jäger bottles around his neck and orders Jack to start drinking.   
They take him to their regular spot, an old pub on 34th street, where their other coworkers meet them a couple of hours later.   
He hasn't had this much fun in ages, he manages to think as he knocks back shots with Romanoff, listening to Sharon and Johnson absolutely massacre "I Love Rock 'N' Roll" on the karaoke machine.    
He's noticed Brock on his phone several times up until this point looking frustrated but he trusts the alcohol to do its job and let him relax for a while. It's his birthday after all and he's getting drunk with his friends, he's earned it so he decides to ignore the nagging at the back of his mind that something's wrong.  
When Andreas shows up a couple of hours later Jack is pretty drunk and he's trying to teach Darcy how to waltz to the tune of Cameron Klein's rendition of "Billie Jean", doing a pretty bang up job if he says so himself.   
He's having fun, even with Darcy stepping on his toes more often than not, and he's too drunk to notice Andreas making his way to him.   
He feels a hand on his shoulder and it's as if his body reacts before his mind verifies it. He'd know that hand anywhere.   
He melts into the touch, spinning around to press his lips against his boyfriend's. His drunk mind doesn't tell him the man's body is stiff as a board or that the lips against his aren't moving.   
He's drunk and relaxed, and fuck, he loves him so much. He presses kisses to the corner of his lips and winds his arms around his waist, pulling him flush against his own body as the scent of him fills his lungs. He always smells so good!   
Andreas grabs his hands. He moves them away from his body as he stares up at his boyfriend.   
"You're drunk." He says.  
Jack freezes. He knows he fucked up.  
The bar suddenly comes back into focus and he realizes Cameron has stopped singing and everyone is watching them.   
"We're going home." Andreas grips his wrist and begins to walk him towards the exit. Jack's face, already flushed from the drinks, burns with embarrassment although he's not sure what he's more embarrassed about: the fact that all of his coworkers are watching him being led out of the bar like a naughty child, or the fact that he's been caught redhanded doing all the things he knows his boyfriend hates.

Andreas says nothing to him on the car ride home but that doesn't make him feel any better, he realizes he fucking hates the silent treatment.    
He can feel the anxiety now, the alcohol making way for it and he finds himself picking at his fingernails in an attempt to calm himself.   
Andreas reaches over and smacks his hand. Jack stops fidgeting. A glance to his left tells him Andreas isn't even looking at him.   
Jack sits on his hands all the way home, but he gets away with moving his big toes inside his shoes to help him focus.    
This is the first time Jack is locked out.   
Andreas takes his phone, wallet and keys and leaves him standing outside the locked apartment door.   
He tries to ring the doorbell a few times, thinking this can't seriously be happening, but Andreas doesn't open, leaves him standing in the hallway with nowhere to go.    
He's too embarrassed to ring on anyone else's door this late, he's drunk and can't think of a lie that explains the situation so he just sort of sits down beside the door and waits.   
Waits for Andreas to forgive him? Waits to sober up? Waits for a better idea?   
He doesn't know and he's not sure how long he sits there, he only knows he jerks awake when he hears the lock click open and that the bedroom door is closed when he gets inside.   
He doesn't even try it to see if it's locked, just goes straight to the couch where he ends up spending the rest of the night.    
After this the lock out became Andreas' preferred method of correction for when Jack stepped out of line.   
He didn't lock him out of the apartment though, not since the friendly Mrs Dempsey next door had insisted on calling a locksmith after Jack panicked and told her he'd forgotten his keys.   
No, now he was being both mentally and physically locked out of the bedroom when he'd done something to upset Andreas, which meant he spends most nights on the living room couch. 

In an attempt to appease his boyfriend Jack begins to spend more time at home. No one at work has mentioned the awkward end to his birthday celebration and he's grateful for it, he doesn't even know how to begin explaining it.   
He does however notice people looking at him differently, Sharon has begun asking for more details when they talk and he can tell Brock is watching him more closely during workouts.   
He feels cornered with their eyes on him and once again he goes deep undercover, spending every minute of every workday keeping up the character of the old Jack Rollins even though it's exhausting. This leads to him spending less time around his friends as well. He doesn't have to pretend if there's no one to hide anything from.   
But no matter how much effort Jack puts into his relationship it just never seems to pay off, in fact it seems to make Andreas' even more distant than before.    
Nothing Jack does is good enough and when he catches Andreas making a profile on Grindr he doesn't even blame him. Instead he understands.   
He understands why Andreas would go to someone else, he understands why he doesn't find him attractive anymore, and he even understands it when Andreas brings the first guy over to the apartment.  
He understands it.  
That doesn't mean it's not excruciating hearing his boyfriend call him a 'roommate'. Watching him walk into their bedroom with another guy. Listening to them fucking on their bed while Jack is banished to the couch. Crying himself to sleep.  
He leaves the apartment early the next morning, hitting the boxing gym with Brock for the first time in a long time, and doesn't leave work until midnight.    
When he comes home Andreas is nowhere to be found but the bedroom door is still closed and Jack finds himself sleeping on the couch again.  
Andreas doesn't come home for three days, and Jack never goes into the bedroom. It just doesn't feel right.   
When he finally does return Andreas acts like nothing ever happened and for a couple of weeks everything seems to have calmed between them. Jack's hope returns, and he decides that if his boyfriend sleeping with other people is what's going to save their relationship he's willing to suffer through it.   
He never actually tells Andreas this because he's afraid to disturb the balance that's been restored between them.   
So he just does his best to keep positive and plays the role of roommate whenever a new guy comes over, and tries to ignore the nagging observation that Andreas never meets his hookups outside the apartment.   
Jack tries to tell himself he's happier now that things have calmed down, but he knows it's not true. Between keeping up appearances at work and just keeping it together at home he's stretched thin. His anxiety flares up more often than he's comfortable with and he knows people at work has noticed.   
He's desperately trying not to let his cracks show but the frustration inside is beginning to show itself to the outside world and he absolutely hates it.   
One day Brock even has him running laps after going off on one of the newest recruits for something trivial. He's always been the least temperamental member of STRIKE-alpha and within hours the rumormill that is SHIELD is ablaze with gossip about the incident.

The mission in Kraljevo is the straw that breaks the camel's back.  
It comes up from nowhere so there's no time to prepare or even have a proper fight about it, so the only thing Jack can do is tell Andreas about it, grab his go-bag, lace up his work boots and head out, and ride out the storm when he gets back to the states.   
Even for STRIKE this is a rough one.   
Most of them return home with cuts, bruises or GSWs, Martinez comes home in a body bag.   
Jack is banged up but alive, and right now he doesn't care about rules or Andreas' feelings, he's going to sleep in his own bed tonight and God protect anyone who tries to stop him.  
Brock gives him a ride home after their debrief, neither of them are ready to talk about the mission yet so they ride in silence with the radio off, their minds too loud and exhausted for anything other than the smatter of rain against the windshield.  
"Get some sleep, brother." Brock orders when he parks outside Jack's apartment building, watching him wrestle his go-bag from the backseat. "Let me know if you need anything, yeah?"   
"You got it, boss." Jack says and opens the car door to head out in the rain. He tries to think of some parting words but come up empty. His mind is white noise and he raises his hand in a wave before closing the car door to head inside to get some rest.   
The door is locked.   
Of course the door is locked.   
He rings the doorbell, it's Thursday night so Andreas should be home.  
No one answers.  
He rings the bell again, feeling the fatigue and anxiety build inside him. No answer.  
He drops his bag and begins looking for his keys. They're not in their normal place.   
It can't be, Jack feels the tears burning behind his eyelids.   
He only left him alone with the bag for a minute when he got his boots.   
He checks the other compartments of his bag, empties its content out on the hallway floor.   
No keys.   
No phone.   
No wallet.   
A lump forms in his throat.   
He rings the bell again.   
No answer.   
His mind shuts down. He moves on autopilot.   
He stuffs his things back into the bag and walks towards the elevator. He presses the entry level button.   
He stares at his reflection in the mirror. The gash on his cheek is bleeding again and he looks like death warmed over.   
He gets out at the bottom level and starts walking. He can't hail a cab without money and he has no phone to call anyone, so he walks.   
He walks the 6 miles to Brock's apartment in the rain like he's a robot. He doesn't think, he doesn't feel, he just walks.   
He can't think because he'd find all the excuses in the world for Andreas' behavior, he can't feel because he can still see Martinez's unseeing eyes looking at him as he drags his dead body out of the line of fire.   
If he feels now he'll never make it through.   
Brock looks downright murderous when he answers the door, even with his hair askew and wearing pajama pants, but he stops cursing when he sees it's Jack.  
"What the hell-"   
"I'm locked out." Jack interrupts, as if that explains why he's standing on his CO's doorstep, dripping wet, at 1 in the morning. After a mission.   
"Uh, come in." Brock says, stepping aside to let him into the apartment. "You should have called, I'd have picked you up."   
Jack watches him disappear into an adjacent room and racks his brain trying to come up with an answer that will make sense.   
"Phone's in the apartment." He just says as Brock comes back with a towel, he's too tired to lie.    
"And Andreas isn't?"   
Brock's tone is more acidic than usual and Jack doesn't have the energy to dig into possible implications.   
"From what I could tell." He sighs, avoiding his CO's eyes as he takes the towel to wipe his face down.   
"Well, do you wanna call him?"   
Jack considers it and he's not sure if it's the fatigue talking but he finds he doesn't want to.   
"It's late." He says, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. "Do you mind if I-"   
"Of course you're staying the night, are you kidding me?" Brock says before Jack can even finish the sentence. "Thinking I'm gonna kick you out, I'm hurt."    
Jack can't help the laugh that bubbles up inside him and Brock looks at him as if he's pleased by the reaction.   
"Come on, man. I think I have some clothes that might fit you, if nothing else they're dry."   
Under normal circumstances Jack would have teased him about use the smaller man could possibly have for clothes his size, but tonight his mind doesn't go there. Instead he just lets Brock corral him into what he too late realizes is his bedroom, the unmade bed a clear sign the man had been sleeping when Jack rang the doorbell.   
"I'm sure I've got something in here that'll fit you." Brock says, diving head first into the wardrobe.   
"I'm sorry." Jack blurts out suddenly, making Brock look up from the neat piles of clothes.   
"About what?" He asks, his tone of voice more controlled than before and it really shouldn't unnerve Jack as much as it does.    
"I shouldn't be here." He can feel himself moving back towards the door. "I shouldn't have come here."   
"Then where should you be?" Brock asks, and the tone of his voice seems so soft to Jack. "Sitting outside your apartment like a dog, waiting for Andreas to come back and let you in?"   
"... I don't want to be a bother." Is all he manages to get out after a moment of panic.   
"Jack." Brock steps up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye. "You are never a bother, alright? You could call me at 3 am, tell me you killed someone and I'd help you bury the body. You're my brother, you got my back, I got yours. Always. Alright?"   
Jack can't get any words past the lump in his throat so he just nods and hopes Brock will understand how grateful he is to have a person like him in his life.   
"Now, come on. Let's get some other clothes on you, get something to eat and go to sleep."   
So a pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt and a powerbar later Jack offers to take the couch.   
"Seriously, man. Stop arguing with me and just sleep on the bed, after this fucking mission I'm not putting you on the couch."   
And Jack is so exhausted that he gives in without much of a fight.

When Jack wakes up 14 hours later he's warm and comfy, and his back feels better than it has in months.    
He finds it somewhat difficult to move though and a glance over his shoulder shows him why. Brock's arm is around his waist and he's snuggled up tight against his back, and it takes Jack a few moments to realize he doesn't mind it.   
Admitting to himself that he actually enjoys having his CO this close is like pulling teeth, and it pains him to realize just how touch starved his relationship has made him.   
He can't help it. He really should just try to put some distance between them but his body acts on its own and he feels himself relax against Brock, settling his arm over the one around his waist and soaks up the endorphins while he can.   
If Brock questions it he can always say he moved in his sleep.   
He tries to clear his mind and go back to sleep, take advantage of the amazing bed and the hot body resting against him but he just can't seem to drift off.   
Brock's naked arm at his waist is making his heart beat faster, he can feel his frazzled nerves begin to fray, tears stinging in his eyes. Why does it feel so good?   
Behind him Brock heaves a sigh, and Jack's sure his heart stops when the man's hand moves under his shirt, rough calloused fingertips caressing the planes of his stomach.   
He can't take it.   
He tries to move without waking Brock, rolling onto his stomach to get away from the offending arm and slips from the bed as stealthily as he can with his aching body.   
His clothes are folded on the chair in the corner so if he can just get them without making too much noise he can get out of there. He doesn't know where to go but he'll figure it out.   
He gathers the clothes in his arms but his belt dangles free and the metal clanking sounds so loud in the quiet room and he's almost past the bed when he hears his CO's sleep drunk rasp.   
"Not trying to sneak out on me, are you?"   
Jack's sure he looks like a deer in the headlights as he struggles to form words, clutching his clothes in his big arms.   
"Um, no?" Is all he can get out and he watches Brock's sleepy grin as he burrows deeper into the covers.   
"Good, make us some coffee while you're at it."

Not able to come up with an objection Jack does what he's asked, although he pauses outside the bedroom door for a moment just to see if Brock goes back to sleep. Just his luck, he seems to remain awake so Jack dumps his clothes on the couch before heads out to the kitchen. If he's gonna stay he might as well stay in the comfortable clothes he's been lent.  
Of course Brock would have an expensive coffee machine. It looks like it would be better suited in a fancy coffee shop than in an federal agent's kitchen.  
Jack fills up two big mugs for them, he remembers his CO enjoys a bit of milk in his so he adds that and gets some more for himself before he puts the milk back in the fridge. He's never been one for black coffee.  
He then sets about looking for a tray to help him carry the mugs into the bedroom but after a while he gives up, he can't help but wonder whether or not Brock has enough people over to even warrant one, but he doesn't think further than that. It's none of his business what he does in his personal life.  
He carries the two mugs in his hands, placing Brock's on the nightstand before he goes over to the other side of the bed. Brock is curled into the covers and he looks unbelievably cozy, Jack thinks as he places his own mug on the nightstand before climbing back into the bed. He'd be dammed if he spilt coffee in his CO's bed.  
"Coffee's ready." He gruffs out and he watches Brock burrow his face further into the pillow with a grunt.  
Jack leans over and swats his arm to get his attention and it's with squinted eyes and a ridiculously good looking bedhead that Brock looks up at him, almost as if he isn't sure who's in bed next to him. "Hm? Ah, thanks." He says and Jack would be lying if he said he didn't like the way his voice sounds.  
"Of course you'd have a fancy fucking coffee machine." He grunts out to distract himself, catching a glimpse of those marvelous abs as Brock sits up, letting the covers drop around his waist. Sure, Jack has seen them before in the showers at work or at the gym, but there's something completely different about sitting in the man's bed and seeing how every muscle moves as he leans back against the headboard to drink his coffee.  
"Hey, I don't bitch about your spending habits, do I?" Brock asks looking at Jack for a long moment that makes Jack uncomfortable enough to turn his face away. It's wrong for him to be looked at like this. He's in his commander's bed, and he realizes after a beat why he feels so uncomfortable with it. This Brock is not the one he's used to at work. It's like his sternness and seriousness hasn't caught up to him yet and Jack is seeing another version of him. Because unlike Jack, Brock doesn't wear a mask at work, he just displays a different version of himself and Jack is seeing the pure, personal, intimate version of him. He tries hard not to think about how many other people have watched him like this. He tries not to count himself among them. "Look man, I only spend money on my bed, my wine and my coffee, I don't ask for much else in my life."  
It hurt him to be this close. This is the closest level on intimacy he's had in what feels like forever and he tries his best not to let it show.  
"So how'd you sleep?" Brock asks when they've sipped their coffees for a while, Jack can already tell the other man is more awake and he doesn't know whether to be happy or sad about it. In a way he likes sleepy Brock, it's new and something so special for him to experience, while on the other hand a more awake Brock means the painful longing for intimacy will ease and he can go back to normal. Quote unquote.  
"It was good." Jack admits, determined not to let too much emotion into his voice. "Would have been better if you didn't drool on me but-"  
"Excuse me, I do not drool." Brock raises an eyebrow at him and Jack can't help but smile. Why does he look so good even with that fucked up hair? Jack smoothes his own hair down, why is he self-conscious all of a sudden?  
"I may snore, but all my saliva is kept inside my mouth unless I'm using it for something important."  
Jack chokes on his coffee and he hates the way Brock's laugh sounds cocky.  
"Not interested in your mouth." He finds himself saying and he's sure Brock can see the heat on his face.  
"Sure you don't." He grins cockily. "Do you know what time it is?" He then asks.  
"The machine said 3 pm."  
"Damn. Haven't slept this long in a while." He empties his cup and stretches out his back.  
"Me neither." Jack finds himself admitting, he still has some coffee left and he swirls it around in the mug.  
"You hungry?" Brock asks, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Jack's eyes betray him by lingering on the impressive muscles running down the man's back towards his ass before he can stop himself. Thankfully his CO doesn't seem to notice.  
"I could eat." He admits, staying on the bed while Brock pulls a longsleeved sweater over his head. Of course he wouldn't be a normal person and put pants on first. Long sleeved shirt and boxer briefs, just Jack's luck. He is lucky enough that he's too exhausted to get hard. The thought alone fills him with shame.  
"You could eat? Jackie, you could eat a horse on a normal day. You've gotta be starving." Brock says, picking up a pair of sweatpants, doesn't put them on, and exits the room. If this was a one night stand Jack would have followed and taken it as an invitation. But it's not and he doesn't. It doesn't stop him from thinking it though.

"Next you're gonna tell you can actually cook?" Jack asks as he trails after Brock out of the bedroom, catching himself staring as the man pulls the sweatpants on, no man has the right to look that good.  
"Hey, asshole. I cook plenty!" Brock retorts, the sleep still in his voice negating his choice of words. "You don't get a body like this without putting in the work in the kitchen." The bastard actually gestures to his washboard abs hidden under the shirt in an overly confident manner.  
"Yeah, I prefer to be soft if it means I don't have to cook." Jack mutters under his breath, surprised to find his CO looking at him like he'd heard him.  
"Who the fuck told you you're soft?" He asks, looking incredulously at his second in command.  
"It's not a big deal." Jack says before he can come up with an excuse. He knows he could work harder on his physique. He absentmindedly wonders if Andreas sleeps with guys who look more like Brock. He doesn't feel hungry anymore and looks for his own sweater to cover up the softness around his hips. "I'm not exactly Captain America." He continues and he wonders when he lost the ability to keep his mouth shut.  
It's always been one of his better qualities.  
"Jack, no one is." Brock scoffs and turns back to the cupboards but not before giving Jack a weird look. Please don't suspect anything, Jack prays. It's too early in the morning, well day, to start lying. Brock fixes them breakfast while Jack makes them more coffee as instructed by Brock. Apparently two cups of coffee is a requirement after a mission, and Jack is grateful to busy his hands. He's not comfortable with just sitting still, watching Brock scrounge up breakfast, it reminds him too much of Andreas at the moment.  
Those early days when he would spoil Jack with a home-cooked breakfast.  
Jack used to feel like the luckiest guy on the planet back then. Andreas was successful, charming and he liked Jack. He couldn't have felt happier man.  
He tries not to think about when things began changing.  
When Jack didn't feel important in their relationship, when he didn't feel like a priority anymore.  
"You okay, brother?" Brock asks shaking Jack from his spiraling thoughts. He must have been staring into space and he apologizes in a quiet tone. Reacting before he remembers who's talking to him and where he is.  
Brock's eyes seem worried when they look at him but Jack does his best to not meet them, focusing on getting the coffee machine up and going again.  
Fuck.  
He needed to get it together.  
Him being tired doesn't matter.  
Him being hurt doesn't matter.  
He just needs to get through breakfast and then he can get out of there without anymore questions asked and things going back to normal.  
That's all he has to do.

They sit down at the kitchen island to eat.  
Brock has managed to scrounge up some fresh fruit, eggs, yogurt, toast and coffee and some orange juice. Jack decides to focus on how surprised he is that Brock doesn't squeeze his own juice. It's easier to think about the man's fear of added sugar than his own situation.  
Brock has turned the radio on but it's tuned to a channel that only plays music.  
"I don't listen to the news after missions." Brock says, in between bites of his eggs. "If there's anything I need to worry about I'll find out when they call me in." He explains and Jack can't say he behaves any differently.  
After missions your head was so full, thoughts of what could and might have been running around, more often than not trying to put words to the actions for the report or the debriefings.  
This time they lost someone.  
It was a rare thing but it happened and Jack tries not to let the tears in his eyes fall.  
Martinez wasn't exactly close with him but they were brothers. That's how it worked.  
Jack can't help but think how different things would have been if it had been his brains exploded all over the warehouse wall.  
Would anyone have cared?  
He was sure some people at SHIELD would care, but they'd too be up the next morning, eating breakfast and listening to the radio, just trying to get on with their life.  
Just another day.  
How would Andreas have reacted? When would he have found out?  
They weren't married, but he was registered as his next of kin in case of emergencies, and Jack can't help but think being dead is a case of emergency.  
Would they have called him? Or would they have met him in person?  
Would SHIELD have sent one of their liaisons to give the news, or would Brock have done it?  
He glances at his CO where he sits beside him, head bobbing softly to the music as he drinks his juice.  
Who would have taken his place as his second in command?  
Jeffries was a good guy but he didn't have the organized mind needed for the position. Johnson was the kind of person people listened to but she was far too hot-tempered. Brock didn't need more of that.  
No, he needed someone to balance him out. Someone who could remain stoic and watch his six no matter what the circumstances were.  
"You good?" Brock's voice is unusually soft and Jack wonders if he's been crying when he returns from his chilling thoughts. He knows he won't believe him if he says yes so he goes for a compromise, which is no less true.  
"Just thinking about Martinez." He says and watches Brock's face fall momentarily.  
"Yeah, me too." He heaves a sigh. "His wife was distraught when we gave her the news last night."  
Of all the responsibilities of a commander Jack would never want the burden of having to inform next of kin. He looks at Brock and he seems so far away all of a sudden.  
"How many kids did they have again?" He asks, turning his gaze into the milky brown coffee in his mug.  
"Three." Brock says, leaning back into his seat with a sigh. "Fourth on the way."  
Fuck!  
Jack's body reacts before he does.  
He reaches out a hand and places it on Brock's. Brock looks at him with tears in his eyes and it takes everything Jack has not to cry as well.  
"I'm sorry you had to do that." He says, his thumb caressing the man's hand in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.  
"Yeah." Brock's eyes flit from the hand to Jack's eyes and Jack feels his chest tighten.  
He wants to do something to help.  
Anything.  
But he knows there's nothing he can do.  
He can't bring Martinez back.  
He can't take Brock's pain and he sure as shit can't make what has happened undone.  
If he was some kind of metahuman or superhero he might have been able to but he's not.  
He's just Jack, and right now that's just not nearly enough.  
"Anyway." Brock clears his throat and rubs his eyes as if he's trying to get the sleep out of them. Jack doesn't show he can see the tears on his hands. "We're here. Gotta be grateful for the little things, huh?"  
Jack nods but he doesn't feel like it applies to him. Is he lucky to be here? He can't escape the feeling of uselessness that fills him at the thought.  
Surely Martinez's wife and kids would have been better off if it had been Jack who'd been killed.  
Again he can't help but wonder if Andreas would have been distraught if the roles were reversed.  
There's no way of knowing and yet Jack knows.  
It hurts like a motherfucker but he knows.  
"Listen, I'm gonna take a shower," Brock says even though he still has some toast left on his plate and Jack blinks awake again, trying to focus on the man to his right. "You can use my phone if you wanna call Andreas, alright? And make yourself at home, you're too nice a house guest, it's a bit weird." Brock slaps his shoulder and walks off, leaving Jack sitting at the island alone with his cooling coffee mug swirling in his hand.  
Too nice?  
He tries to wrap his head around the concept.  
At home he's used to walking on eggshells, afraid to break the fragile peace that settles in the mornings. He wonders what he could do differently. He considers leaving the dishes out for the man to deal with after his shower but it goes against everything he's been raised to do so he ends up doing them anyway. He does eat the rest of Brock's toast though, he hates wasting food.

He then goes for the phone in Brock's bedroom only to realize he doesn't have the pass code so he puts it back on the nightstand and feels lost once again. He considers putting his own clothes on but he wonders if maybe he could sneak in a short shower after Brock's done in the bathroom.  
He drains the rest of his cold coffee and washes the mug as well, placing it on the drying rack beside the sink.  
He can't understand why the man would have a fancy fucking coffee machine but no dishwasher. Priorities he supposes.  
He tries to make himself more at home and heads to the couch. It's nowhere near as fancy as Andreas' but it's nice and comfortable as he leans back to flip through the channels. As expected his CO has an extended sports package and he flicks between a baseball game, NHL reruns and UFC qualifiers before he even reaches any "regular" channels.  
He decides to avoid any news networks like the plague and opts out of any reality shows which basically leaves National Geographic and Animal Planet, he decides to watch a documentary about African honey badgers. It's not riveting but it does manage to keep his brain occupied long enough for him to forget Brock is naked in the other room.  
He has no idea why he's so obsessed all of a sudden other than the trauma of the mission and his desperate need for intimacy but he does his best not to pay it any attention.  
So what if this is the newest way for his anxiety to show itself? He's an adult, he's handled worse situations than this. Despite trying to occupy himself he can tell when Brock gets out of the shower, and his insides hurt when the man decides to walk to his bedroom with nothing but a towel slung around his narrow hips. Fuck him!  
"I sure would like to" his mind supplies before he can stop it.

Despite his raging emotions Jack manages to keep himself busy, not creepy, and helpful the rest of the day. He helps Brock clean the apartment and when they finally settle on the couch together to start a movie they're both exhausted and if they sit a bit too close to each other neither of them mentions it.  
When Jack a couple of minutes later feels Brock's hand move to his neck he doesn't say anything about it. He's not uncomfortable with it, not even when Brock's fingers run through the curled ends of his hair. If he asked him to, he knows he would stop, maybe that's why Jack doesn't say anything.   
It feels good, something so small yet comforting about being held, being touched so casually with no tension behind it. After some time he looks at Brock and sees him focused on the movie, fingers moving absentmindedly across his hair and neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world.   
He doesn't know why he does it, doesn't even realize he's moved until he feels Brock jerk as he moves his lips over his. Doesn't know why he won't move away in panic when he comes to terms with kissing his CO, if he was sane enough to do it he'd blame it all on Brock's ridiculously expensive wine.   
He opens his eyes slightly as he kisses the corner of Brock's lips and expects to see an angry man ready to push him off of him, but what he sees takes his breath away. Brock's pupils are blown wide, brown eyes almost black with lust as before he knows it Jack is pulled into his lap, straddling the man's thighs as he chases those lips he's thought about so many times. The fingers in his hair make goosebumps form across his skin and Jack finds himself grinding down on Brock, every system in his body overloaded when he hears Brock's low moan.   
"Jackie-"   
Jack cuts him off with more kisses as he fumbles with the man's shirt, he doesn't want to hear. Doesn't want to stop and think. He just needs to feel again, he tells himself as he almost rips the shirt from his CO's body in a frenzy, and he doesn't realize he's crying until Brock cups his cheeks and holds him still.   
"Oh Jackie." He whispers, wiping the tears that stain his face before pulling him into an embrace.   
He takes a shuddering breath and it's as if the dam breaks.   
He doesn't even try to keep himself quiet, sobbing and screaming the pain in his chest, encouraged by the hands gently rubbing his back, coaxing every ache and pain out of him. He buries his face in Brock's neck, not caring that his tears leave a wet stain on his shirt, not even caring that his snot blends into the fabric as well. The flood gates have opened and for once he doesn't care about keeping up appearances or not being a bother.   
Brock's got him.   
He's got his back, like he's always had and beneath all that pain that's slowly but surely easing he feels safe. He's seen Brock in action, he'd stop at nothing to keep him safe, to keep him happy.   
It's such a foreign concept Jack actually has to laugh, a short humorless laugh that confuses Brock, he can feel his head move to try and look at his face but he's not ready yet. If he stops now there will always be that little bit of pain left inside, rotting and tainting him. No, he needs to get it out or else he'll rot.   
He shakes his head, burrowing deeper into his commander's shirt-covered shoulder, hoping he'll understand he can't stop yet. He's not sure if Brock does or if he just takes the hint cause his face places itself on Jack's shaking shoulder, it almost feels like he's just waiting for him to get it all out.

His anxiety takes over as soon as his tears have dried and as he leans back on Brock's lap and sees the mess he's made he begins to apologize but promptly shuts up when Brock presses a kiss to his disgusting lips.   
"You don't need to apologize to me, Jackie. It's nothing a run in the washer won't fix." Brock's hands are still at Jack's back and Jack can feel himself melt into the touch, such strong, bloodied hands handling him with such care. It's intoxicating.   
"Will you tell me about it?" He then asks and it takes everything Jack has not to bolt, mostly because he has nowhere to bolt to.   
"I'm-" He tries but has to start again, his throat feels so dry, like it's sticking to itself. "I'm not happy."   
To his credit Brock gives the softest look at that stupid answer. No sarcasm, no 'thank you captain obvious', just a look that asks him to continue.   
"Andreas locked me out." He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the inevitable disbelief, the questioning and blaming.   
"How long has he been doing that?" Brock instead asks and while Jack can hear the edge in his voice he somehow instinctively knows it's not aimed at him.   
"Since my birthday." He says quietly, it doesn't feel real to admit it out loud, it sounds unbelievable even to his own ears.   
He can feel Brock fill his lungs with air and then release, his chest moving against Jack's and it's such a strange thing to be this close. Jack can almost count his eyelashes.   
"When will he be back?" Brock's voice brings his world back into focus but it takes him a moment to understand the question   
"Don't know." He says, shrugging a little as he tries to seem unaffected but then he remembers he's still covered in tears and snot and he gives up the illusion. "I didn't even know he'd be away. He took my wallet and my keys and just... left."   
He doesn't tell Brock about his missing phone, for some reason he feels reluctant to admit that one. He can almost feel the anger radiating from his commander but his touch never once grows hard so Jack stays where he is, straddling his lap and waiting for... He doesn't really know what.   
"Tell me seriously," Brock catches his gaze and holds it for moment. "Do you want to go back?"   
Even though Jack feels the answer in his bones he stalls.   
"I feel like I don't have any other choice."   
"You have every choice in the world. But that's not what I asked you. Do you want to go back to him?"   
"No." He says after a beat of silence, tears coming to his eyes again and he wipes them away before hiding his face in his hands and mumbles. "I don't want to go back."   
Those are the magic words.   
Brock envelops him in an embrace, stroking Jack's hair as he continues to cry for a bit, the fear and relief of having said it out loud.   
"It's gonna be okay, Jackie." Brock says as he strokes his hair, comforting him the best way he knows.

They stay like this until the movie ends, Jack is worried it's all going to come crashing down if he moves and Brock honestly doesn't seem to mind him clinging to him too much.   
"You hungry?" He asks once the credits end, still stroking Jack's hair, playing slightly with the curled ends.   
Jack doesn't speak, he feels like he's already talked Brock's ear off enough, even though somewhere deep down he knows he's barely said five sentences all day. Instead he just nods into Brock's shoulder and he's shocked to find the man chuckle, almost as if he thinks he's cute.   
"Alright, big guy." His hand settles gently but securely at the base of Jack's skull and he gives another chuckle when the tiniest moan escapes him. "Wanna order in?"   
Another nod and after some coaxing they both settle on Chinese food from the nearby family owned restaurant, Brock can never shut up about his cheat meals he gets from there.    
Before the food arrives Jack manages to tear himself off of his commander's lap, taking an advised quick shower and dressing in a new shirt since the last one was covered in snot and tears, and Jack actually feels better when he steps out of the shower.   
Not good, the anxiety is still there and now he has a whole new set of worries to plague his mind, but physically at least he feels better.   
More calm.   
Tired.   
Exhausted, and when he sits there on the couch eating his dinner, more or less snuggled up to his commander like a touch starved cat it doesn't take long for him to start dozing off.   
As soon as Jack's lights start going out Brock takes the food away from him and helps him into bed, ready to stifle any requests from the man to sleep on the couch but almost surprisingly he finds none. Jack falls asleep as soon as his face hits the pillow and it takes everything Brock has not to storm over to Andreas' place and make a scene.   
No, he can't do that, he decides when he glances back at his second in command snoring away in bed. He can't do that to Jack.   
With the reluctance he's shown to tell even his best friend the truth of his relationship he knows he won't want to get anyone else involved.   
For now.   
Brock does however make a few calls before he finishes the last of his dinner and joining Jack in the bed.

Jack stays with Brock until Andreas comes back into the country three days later, having gone on a business trip to Stockholm, and calls Brock fuming about the notice stuck on his breached apartment door with the SHIELD logo loud and proud on it.   
Jack is out shopping, and as much as Brock would delight in asking Andreas where Jack is as he hasn't been seen since they came back from the mission, and listen to the man trying to explain why he, his significant other, has no idea, he honors his promise to Jack and ignores the impulse. Instead he puts on his best commander voice and it's with great pleasure he tells Andreas that they had strong indications that the apartment contained stolen SHIELD property and it had been lawfully seized back into the government's possession.   
He doesn't say anything about the mess or the fact that all of Jack's stuff is gone from the apartment and neither does Andreas. He merely responds to the man's threat of a lawsuit, knowing full well the paperwork had gone through all the proper channels and that whatever lawyers Andreas brought with him they wouldn't last five minutes with SHIELD's legal department, and wishes him a nice life before hanging up and continues cooking.

Over dinner that night Jack brings up that Sharon has offered him her guestroom and that he's decided to accept, that it's time for Brock to get his space back and Brock, knowing this is a good step for Jack to take but still feeling sad he won't wake up next to him anymore, smiles the right amount, congratulates him on his progress and assures him he's never once been a bother to Brock and that there's always a place for him in his life.   
They kiss that night before they go to bed, soft and tender and slow, savoring each other, intimate and for lack of a better word, familiar.    
They don't kiss again until about three months later when Sharon is out of town for a mission, and Jack's invites Brock over to watch a game, ending up in each others' arms, making out on Sharon's couch.   
They do sleep together that night, even though they have the good sense to leave the couch unsullied, but decide to take things slow moving on, but it doesn't take Jack long to be comfortable enough to seek out Brock's hand whenever they're not working.

Brock is still working on putting words to just how happy it makes him. 


End file.
